Living Proof
by tiswillard
Summary: Set during Orpheus 3.3 - Tom/Doug slash.


Title: Living Proof

Rating: PG-13 - for slash!

Fandom: 21 Jump Street

Movie/quote: 10.#2 "Lucky, please don't feel bad. You still got me. Course I ain't a young and pretty girl. I ain't even a girl, but I'll stick. I'll never leave you." --Swing Time

Summary: _"I mean, people die. Yea, it's sad - but we learn to get on with it. You and me, we're just living proof of that."_

Disclaimer: I own season two on DVD! Does that count?!

Word Count: 991

Author's Notes (optional): Old old oldddddd. Had this typed out on my computer for a while, kind of forgot about it. Been a while since I've posted to this community, but I don't think they realized it's been over three months yet, lucky me. Actually, I should probably go check the claims list and stuff. I'M STILL THERE COOOOOL.

Doug felt bad. Well, that was an understatement. Who couldn't feel bad? He felt horrible. He felt like shit. When you watch your best friend's world collapse when his girlfriend gets shot - even if it was his soon to be ex-girlfriend, without the benefit of him knowing she was about to be shot. And it wasn't like Tom wasn't strong; but it should be a given that someone with his past is going to be a little more than upset by someone so close like that getting shot. In front of you, nonetheless. Just, what the hell is that? Who _deserves_ that? No one, and especially not Tom.

"Sorry," Tom mumbled from the couch. Doug smiled a little, realizing that nothing could completely shake him, no matter how hard it tried. Tom would still sit there, apologizing for his own weaknesses.

"What are you apologizing for?" Doug asked, his voice coming out low and hoarse. Tom looked up at him for a moment, Doug's eyes only momentarily making contact with Tom's bloodshot ones. Tom shied instantly, suddenly looking back down at his folded hands. If the idea didn't seem too forward, Doug would approach him and put an arm around him, but recently -

"I don't know," Tom admitted eventually. "Just, you know..."

Brilliant response.

"Listen, it's not the end of the world, buddy," Doug said awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling his feet. "I mean, people die. Yea, it's sad - but we learn to get on with it. You and me, we're just living proof of that."

If Doug didn't know any better, he would have thought he had heard Tom emit at least a small chuckle, and then a sniffle. But maybe there was hope - it wasn't like Doug had exactly seen Tom cope over this sort of thing - best friends aside.

"Thanks," Tom said. "I... needed someone to say that."

Well, Doug wanted to say, anyone could have said it.

But Doug was glad it was him. All qualms set aside, Doug made his way across the room, sitting down next to Tom on the couch. All feelings whitheld and unadmitted were put aside. He wrapped his arm around the younger man, pulling him into some type of awkward hug. In a completely manly and friendly way, for the record. Although, they had no problem with physical contact _before_.

At first Tom had matched the gesture, hugging Doug, smiling, sniffling. After a while, however, Tom pulled himself away, averting his gaze to the ground. This left Doug to awkwardly pull his arm away, staring at Tom's gangly knee one moment, and the carpet the next.

"I'm still sorry," Tom said. This time, Doug stayed silent. "Three-point-three seconds. I could have done so much, but I didn't do anything. And then, I just sorta mope around and depress everybody, and at this point, it's sort of like I _have_ to blame myself, you know?

"Anyone who's meant anything to me has died. And then all that's left is you, my mom. And well, you know, there are other people. But we're not as close. So it's not like I'm trying to be a bitch or something."

"Tom," Doug began, although he wasn't sure where he was going with this, "please don't feel bad. You still got me. 'Course... I'm not young and pretty." Doug stopped, laughed, hearing the accidental implications in his mumbling. Somewhere in this, he'd forgotten who he was talking to and had grabbed Tom's chin so he would look at him, since his partner and best friend had suddenly become determined to stare a hole in the ground. "I'm not even a girl, but.... I'll... stick. I'll never leave you."

Tom continued to stare at Doug, and for some reason, his hand was still on his chin. Heart beating, tension high, knotting stomach - Doug was practically distracted when Tom's lips touched his. His eyes stayed open, but so did Tom's - at first Doug wasn't sure if they _had_ kissed, or if there had just been wind. But, he figured, with Tom's eyes asking 'is this okay?', it hadn't been his imagination. Swallowing his doubts, he moved his hand, which had previously been on Tom's chin, onto his neck. The goosebumps on Tom's neck were _terribly_ obvious. Doug willed himself to nod, but couldn't. Instead, he finally closed his eyes and felt his finger inadvertently stroke Tom's jawbone.

It was slow at first - not so much _kissing_ as just friction, but still desirable. In the beginning, their bodies also seemed to have some invisible barrier - but they somehow broke it, coming closer to one antoher - redefining the term 'physical contact with your best friend'.

The kiss moved fast, but Doug was too busy enjoying himself rather than thinking about the cause and effect of this situation. His worry, buried deeply, was endless mutterings of 'would Tom's, 'how would Tom's, and 'what if Tom's - which is all why Doug had never made a move before now.

(But this time, it had been Tom's move, right?)

"What are we doing?"

Tom pulled away abruptly, his hand over his mouth, eyes even bigger than they had been before.

"Sorry," Doug said, at an otherwise complete loss for words. Funny how roles can change like that, of course. He bit his lip, eyeing the door. His mind ran with desperate thoughts of fucking this up. "I better go."

Doug only had time enough to stand up before Tom's hand clasped around his wrist.

"Don't leave."

Doug's eyes met Tom's, and they resumed staring at each other once again.

Doug sat down.

"Sorry," Tom said. "I freaked out." Bringing his eyes up to Doug's, "it was okay, right? That's why you... nodded?"

The only way Doug could think to respond was to satisfy the desire Tom had nearly fulfilled. Their lips were forming so much better friction this time. Actually kissing. Doug decided not to go any further, but the butterflies in his stomach made it difficult.

"Yea," Doug said, breathless but smiling. "It was fine."


End file.
